TRAILING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

wanted to pounce on the opportunity when it was red hot. Media presence during the date would be minimum but it would undoubtedly gain traction.
     
     
    More than anything else, he wanted to be with Trisha.
     
     
    The biker had put on his best dress suit for the occasion. The feel of a nice Swiss stitched dinner jacket was alien to him. He preferred the weight and the texture of a leather jacket. Nevertheless, it was an easy sacrifice to make if he could play the role of the charming, sophisticated dinner date for Trisha’s sake.
     
     
    He took her hand in his guided her to the car’s side door. Her skin was surprisingly cool against his. It was almost witchlike with how she did this to him. Then again, it could be the humid weather in the area.
     
     
    Lucia had wanted a chauffeur but Dante decided to drive himself. Letting go off the standard nine-three steering hold, he reached out to place an arm around Trisha’s back. Her hair tickled his skin and her sweet yet spicy perfume caught his attention.
     
     
    Over the phone, Trisha had revealed she made her own perfume from leftover fruit and peppers that weren’t good enough for eating. The woman’s practicality was endearing. He would’ve offered to buy her some high class perfume bottles if he didn’t enjoy her homemade scent. No manufactured perfume bottle could match her personal touch.
     
     
    No matter how this went down, Dante knew he’d still support Trisha and her farm. Foxtail Farms reminded him of the Black Hound Motorcycle Club back in the old days. It was as much of a family as it was a business.
     
     
    He could direct enough business to the farm so that it could be self-sustaining. It would free up Trisha to follow other pursuits. The woman was charitable with a good deal of her limited produce going to food programs for the poor, especially children. Trisha had a big heart that wanted to help so many people. The farm girl could even start her own charity.
     
     
    She could also spend more time with him.
     
     
    It was a selfish thought. Trisha’s life was her own. He would as much or as little part of it as she desired. The young woman had gone through so much and given up so much.
     
     
    Now, she gazed off to the side of the car and stared at the side view mirror. Dots of white and red streaked by as the rode on the highway. His date looked lost in her own thoughts.
     
     
    “Enjoying the ride, Trisha?”
     
     
    She laughed. “I’m not used to driving in a nice, quiet car like this. All of the cars my dad bought were second hand rust buckets that sounded like machine shop. If one of our cars started to go quiet, that meant it was about to blow its engine.”
     
     
    Dante asked. “Are you excited for tonight?”
     
     
    She paused before answering. “It’s the night you’ll propose, right?”
     
     
    There was no point in mincing words. “It’ll be a quiet occasion with minimum media presence. Well, as media-free as a place can be when you live in a world with cell phone cameras. Either way, they’ll find out eventually and think I’m on the straight and narrow.”
     
     
    “Don’t you think we’re rushing things?” Trisha pondered. She seemed more interested in his reasoning than the fact that he was actually proposing. “We haven’t known each other for very long. Shouldn’t we wait before you pop the question?”
     
     
    “Most of the businessmen I know are juggling three or more mistresses,” he chuckled. “I must look downright responsible next to them with how I’m courting you.”
     
     
    “I don’t suppose the ring is my size?” she asked, getting into the festive mood. It was better than things being awkward between them. “Or did your sister find that out already?”
     
     
    Dante shot her mischievous smile. “Why’d you think I kept holding your hand?”
     
     
    Trisha looked back at him in mock anger. “And here I thought you enjoyed feeling the gnarled hands of a hardworking farm